The Shattered Land_ The Dreaming Dark - Keith Baker [96]
Be still. Throw down your weapons, and you may yet live.
Now Pierce had an arrow nocked. He slid around the wide pillar, until he caught a glimpse of movement—a warforged scout like the one they’d seen on the beach, its arms studded with blades. In an instant, Pierce considered distance, wind, and the trajectory of his opponent. Even in the dark of night, Pierce was confident that he could strike his foe; he was already considering his second attack, how the enemy might respond in the time it took Pierce to draw and loose a second arrow. He felt a faint twinge of doubt—why were these warforged here? Were they connected to the stranger he’d met at the docks of Stormreach? But he forced it aside. This was war. This was his purpose. All he needed was Daine’s order, and the battle would begin.
The order didn’t come. Seconds passed as Pierce and Lei stood ready, waiting for some sign or signal. Finally the voice came again.
Now your companions abandon you. How … human. The voice was like a sandstorm, particles thrown against the wind to form coherent words. But you remain, brother. Reveal yourself. Your destiny awaits.
Abandon? Brother?
Were they looking for him?
Lei was staring at him, puzzled and concerned, and Pierce found himself gripped by unfamiliar emotion. Usually, his path was crystal clear. Follow orders. Protect his companions. He knew the principles of war, of stealth, the quickest ways to kill, but destiny—it wasn’t a word he had ever given much thought to. He had a purpose, and it was a purpose he had served for almost thirty years. What else could there be?
Over the last year, Pierce had spent much of his time reading, learning about the history of the warforged and the nature of magic, but only now did he truly understand the power of curiosity.
The scout was slowly moving forward, and Pierce could hear the others making their way across the clearing. The larger figure was apparently wearing chain mail or something similar; the air was filled with the sound of metal clinking against metal.
“Your bow!” Lei hissed. She held out one hand. “Quickly!”
Pierce knew what she was planning. Lei could weave magic into a weapon to enhance its power against a specific type of creature, causing even a glancing blow to inflict a terrible injury. If all of their enemies were warforged, such an enchantment could turn the tide of battle, but now strange words loomed in his thoughts. Brother. Destiny.
“Pierce!” Lei snapped. She reached out for the bow, and to his surprise, he found himself stepping back, moving out of her reach. Her eyes grew wide.
He said nothing, relying on military signals to frame his request: silence. Hold position. His mind was aflame with doubt, with fear—was he placing Lei in danger?—but he found himself turning around and slowly stepping out from behind the pillar.
The four scouts were spread across the clearing. They were identical, and as Pierce moved into view they turned to face him in perfect unison, blades rising up and locking along their arms.
It was the man in the center of the clearing who drew the eye. He towered over the scouts; he must have been nine and a half feet in height with a solid, powerful build. His intimidating bulk was enhanced by his cloak, which flowed around him—though it was a still night, with no breeze to justify this motion. Pierce’s instinct said the man was warforged, and certainly there was no sign of flesh on the stranger’s body, but neither could Pierce see any wood, metal plates, or the root-like tendrils that served as the muscles of a warforged. At this distance, he seemed to be covered in chainmail—but Pierce could see nothing beneath the glittering links except darkness.
At last.